“Who she was wasn’t defined by doing at all.”

Who she was wasn’t about doing at all.
Bird by Bird, Ann Lamott

Recently, I had a conversation with an old friend in which I was asked, “Why do you even WANT to be my friend?!”

This person IS my friend and has been for quite some time. We’ve had a lot of fun together and we’ve seen each other’s crappiest crap. There have been mistakes and fights and hurt feelings. There have also been many times of forgiveness and understanding and love. Our friendship status is really rather defined at this point. It’s who we are to each other: Friend, even Family.

I questioned the question and discovered that my friend had believed the lie that there is some performance evaluation that every friend must go through to maintain their status. If Friend-A is not performing at the same level as Friend-B, then Friend-B is likely to cut Friend-A loose, cut their losses, and move on with life.

Maybe that’s how it works in the world’s friendship system. But in Christ, there’s a whole other story.

Who my friend is to me, isn’t about performance at all. We have a relationship. This relationship exists IN and because of Christ. It is a relationship of friend and of Family. It’s unbreakable, under any circumstances. Sure, there may be periods of time that one or the other of us choose to DISAPPEAR and be unreachable – and there may even be seasons when that is needed for some reason, but we will still be friends and we will still be Family.

There is Freedom in that truth. We are free to be. We are free to do, but not defined by our doing, or measured by our performance. We are free of needing to fix each other. We are Friends. We are Family. We are reminders to one another of an Identity given to us in Christ. Unchanging, even when unseen.

So, dear Friend. I want to be your friend, because I am your friend and because you are mine. I want to be your friend because Christ has made us Family. What other reason do we need? 

like it’s my job

Yesterday, I sat down to write but was distracted with memories of a day at the beach. Naturally, I then wished I was there. I pictured myself sitting on a wall by the ocean, digging my feet into the sand, drinking coffee, and watching the sunset, while chatting with one of my dearest friends.

Before I knew it, I was switching mediums from print to paint…

I grabbed a little canvas and a paint brush, and an ocean sunset spilled out. I didn’t know what it looked like until it was on the canvas in front of me. At first, I thought the waters of my ocean were still, so I painted them that way, but then I watched my hand wiggle the paint brush around to create waves. And then, I could almost smell the ocean breeze and hear the sound of the crashing waves.

I’ve decided to be creative like it’s my job – writing, painting, and whatever else flows out.  I’d certainly not mind if someday one or both of those things became “my job” {a source of income}. For the time being though, the point is to be who I am, to express and release what’s inside of me, and to learn to do it well.

So, Monday through Friday (with occasional exceptions), you’ll find me writing and painting and creating in various forms. I’ll share some of it along the way.

I’m grateful and humbled that I’m able to spend time doing things I love! {Thank you Jesus and husband!} We’ll see what adventures come out of it.

Do it everyday for a while… Do it as you would do scales on the piano. Do it by pre-arrangment with yourself. Do it as a debt of honor. And make a commitment to finishing things.

- Bird by Bird, Anne Lamott

I wonder now if we seemed more like this…

When I was a kid, I liked to make my brother play INTERVIEW. It’s a common game for children, right?

We’d put on dress up clothes. He’d sit down behind a pretend desk. He’d call my pretend name. I’d come in the room. We’d introduce ourselves to each other. He’d ask me questions.

“That’s not a good question.”
“I’m asking the questions.”
“Ask questions about my other jobs…”
“Don’t tell me what to do!!”

He’d tell me he had some more interviews to do but he would let me know when he made a decision. I’d go into the closet and change into DIFFERENT dress up clothes. He’d call my next pretend name. We’d do this many times. He’d make a decision about who to hire. I’d put those clothes back on and re-enter the room.

“Congratulations! You got the job!”
“Oh! Thank you! I’m so excited to work for you!” 

At the time, I thought we were acting very ADULT. But, I wonder now if we seemed more like this…

Something is coming. // write

Something is coming. New life is being birthed. When I look at the soil in the landscape of my life, I see little tiny seedlings springing out of the ground. I can’t be sure yet what they will grow into, but I’m excited to water them and expose them to the sun.

It seems that some of these tiny seedlings have something to do with me writing more, again. I’m compelled to cultivate that expression the Lord has placed in me.

Writing can give you what having a baby can give you: it can get you to start paying attention, can help you soften, can wake you up.

– Bird by Bird, Anne Lamott

{Side Note: This post has nothing to do with having babies. Don’t get the wrong idea here.}

I want to pay attention.
I want to soften.
I want to wake up.
…
I want to write.

So, I am and I will.  
It’s sure to be an adventure.

as I learn to recognize the Lord

My temporomandibular joint has a lot of issues. [A.K.A. I have TMD or what most people call TMJ, problems with my jaw and the surrounding facial muscles.] For many years now, it’s caused me various types of pain and discomfort. It ebbs and flows in intensity, but it is always there.

I’m used to it, but I’d rather not be… ya know?

So, I have an awesome husband who encouraged me to go to an awesome friend who is a very experienced and skilled massage therapist. So I did. Her name is Jill. She’s our sister (you know, in Christ). She also has the same TMD problems. She knows the pain and it’s repercussions first hand. She also knows how helpful certain massage techniques can be and she knows how to use those techniques. I now go see her now every 2 or 3 weeks for a massage. I know that sounds all luxurious and relaxing, and there is a bit of that involved sometimes… but, mostly, I lay there and she inflicts intense pain on my face. But it helps. 

Recently, she tried the most intense treatment she’s done on me so far. I laid on her massage table thinking…

This. HURTS!!!!

If Jill was some random stranger who I came to for help, I’d peace out of here real quick saying… 
“Sorry but this is not helping. This is hurting! Thanks, but no thanks!”

But because I know that Jill understands my pain and has been in this position herself,
and because I know that she cares about me and is doing this to help me,
and because I know that she does actually know what she’s doing…

I can rest in this pain, knowing it’s a good and helpful pain that will make it better later. 

Does that sound familiar? It reminds me of the Lord. He is good and He is the Giver of Good Gifts. He knows our pain. He’s felt it Himself. He doesn’t enjoy seeing us in pain but there are times that, because of His desire to heal and free us, He walks us through some painful things, knowing they are essential in taking us to the better/BEST He desires for us.

The pain I feel during massages is “good pain.” I easily recognize that now. It is not always as easy to recognize growing pains in walking with the Lord, or living in the Body, as “good pain” but it is getting easier more natural to see it as such as I learn to recognize the Lord.

I love watching our family grow! // Ben and Erica

When I was 3 1/2 years old, I became a big sister to a little brother. I’d hoped for a little sister and upon finding out that he was a brother I said, “I’ll love him, but I’m not gonna like him.” I quickly realized that I did actually both love AND like the little guy! But then he got older and more mean, and that statement became true sometimes. Apparently though, I wasn’t always nice to him either – or so he claims. But, whether we liked each other at the time or not, I was always attempting to take care of him (whether he wanted me to or not). It was my job as a big sister!

At some point – probably about the time I left for college, I’d say we became friends! (He would not say that, as both my brothers have informed me countless times that sisters are sisters and NOT friends. I, however, disagree.)

Eventually, I’m pretty sure he forgot that he was my LITTLE brother and started acting more like an OLDER brother. I think for a while he was afraid he’d have to take care of me forever, as he figured I would NEVER get married. But then I DID get married! And he (along with the littlest brother we share), walked me down the aisle.

In four days, he’ll be waiting at the end of another aisle for his bride. She’s delightful! And perfect for him! I’ll finally, officially, get that sister I wanted. Thanks, Ben! ;)

Ben and Erica have been together for several years now, and she’s already a part of our family! But, I’m excited that it will now be “official!” And I know that they are too!

Jon and I are flying to CA tomorrow to celebrate these two! I love seeing my not-so-little brother happy, and so grown up! And I love watching our family grow! 

put that sucker down // street art

 

 

Art is awesome. I love to look at it, just as much as I love to make it. When I grow up, I want to be a street artist with my littlest (but much taller than me) brother. I’ll probably be HIS sidekick. And it will be a BLAST. (It’s always good to start a conversation with a tangent… )

Recently, while perusing the interwebs, I came across this lovely specimen of street art and was immediately filled with delight.
(It’s in Svartlamoen, Trondheim. $5 to anyone who knows where that is without looking it up!) 

I found myself reflecting on this question: Am I the man with the umbrella, anxiously hiding from the colorful drips surrounding him OR the child with arms lifted in joyful surrender to the circumstances, allowing refreshment to soak in?

Sometimes, I choose the ways of the umbrella… but oh the joy that comes when I put that sucker down, throw up my arms, lift my face to the sky, and bask in the glory of whatever is pouring down.

Click here for a closer look and a glimpse at the process of creating this piece.

Thanks, Skurktur.